


first meeting

by Samlock



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: 1950s, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Boys In Love, Early Beatles, Early Days, Fighting, Fights, First Meetings, Fist Fights, Friendship/Love, How Do I Tag, Love at First Sight, Love/Hate, M/M, Nowhere Boy - Freeform, idk okay, teddy boy era, what the fuck is this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 04:16:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20736092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samlock/pseuds/Samlock
Summary: John Lennon and Paul Mccartney met for the first time on the 6th of July, 1957. They didn’t wuite like each other. [A reimagine of their first meeting, loosely based on nowhere boy oops-]





	first meeting

**Author's Note:**

> well hello everyone. thought i was dead, didn’t ya? nope i’m alive and kicking and now back with another fic. and this time i present you: mclennon! (the title is not very creative sorry)

From the first time he saw the ted, he had a feeling they were going to hate each other’s guts. Though the skiffle band was alright and the teddy boy’s voice was not even half bad. In fact, Paul thought he could like the boy a bit better. It was kind of weird though, the way the lad would place his fingers on the guitar.

Ivan was the one who encouraged him to join the band - or at least, try to get in the band. When he came into the garage - otherwise known as the band’s ‘rehearsing place’, six pairs of eyes had caught his attention. They all stopped talking and stared at him with all sorts of different expression. It didn’t quite matter as much as the look the former had been giving him though.

Apparently, Ivan was also the one to initiate the conversation, otherwise they both would’ve been standing facing each other all day in a weirdly intense staring battle. “John, this is Paul,” Ivan said, “Paul, John.”

The ted -  _John _ \- put his guitar away and held his hand up for a handshake. Paul was quick to remind himself to held up his right hand - didn’t want to seem rude to his soon-to-be bandmate.

When their hands touch, it almost seem like they were the only ones in the big room. Everything stopped, it was quiet and both of them could feel even the slightest shuffle of a shoe or the air going around them in some kind of a quiet dance. Paul watched as John’s face softened. Somehow it felt like the handshake heightened his senses in a way that he knew the other boy was also experiencing the moment with him. The roughness of John’s finger when it touched his hand made Paul smiled - though only a bit, how it reminded him of his own fingers after a session of playing his guitar by himself in his room. John didn’t smile, but it was clear that he approve of Paul.

Slowly, the seemingly vulnerable expression was gone from John’s face, a condescending smirk replacing it. Paul started to hate him again.

“What do you think of the band?”

“It’s alright.” Paul pulled away his hand to fidget with his guitar.

John only scoffed and Paul hated him even more. He turned to his snickering bandmates with that smirk again.  _That smirk _ \- it made Paul wanted to punch that face so bad. His fist visibly clenched. When John turned to face him again, another question already rolled out his tongue. “How old are you?”

“15,” came his answer, it was short but said with a lot of confidence. Even a slight bit of arrogance dripped with the word. It had always stuck to Paul, when he knew that he was good at something, he’s not afraid to acknowledge it. Sometimes it works like a charm and other times he was just asking for a kick in the arse. This time though, it serves as neither.

The expression on John’s face didn’t change, the smirk still there. He nodded a bit, then another retort. “You look older,” he paused for a reaction but didn’t give a chance for Paul to say anything. “Alright, play something.”

But Paul wasn’t on the same page, still thinking about how dare John told him he looked older than he was. “Was that suppose to be a good thing?”

John shrugged lazily, “Just play.”

He obliged, proceeding to play a song he had prepared just before. Before he even had a chance to even pluck the strings, John let out a soft chuckle. Though it sounded more like another scoff to Paul. God, he hated that boy.  _What is it now?_

But for the sake of saving time, he didn’t say it aloud. He only glared briefly at John and played the guitar. To his surprise, John didn’t mock him or even gave a remark. He just watched him with a stoic expression. If Paul hadn’t known better, he would mistook John for not giving a damn about his singing or playing. “So?”

At first, he seemed like he was caught up in something else. Only Paul knew it wasn’t something else, John was staring at his fingers the whole time. He knew he was impressed. It was Paul’s turn to smirk.

“You can go home now,” John finally said, “we got to rehearse for the next gig.”

Paul can’t hardly believe what he just said. Contrary to what he thought, John  didn’t like his playing! Then what was the stare suppose to mean? He couldn’t just give Paul false hope!  _Not after that handshake!_

But John had already turned away to his bandmates when Paul was just about to protest. “What was that stare about then?”

John turned around again, “speak up, son. Can’t hear ye.”

Paul clenched his fist again and repeated the question. John act confused and made these faces that Paul hated. Paul knew he was only mocking him. The bloke couldn’t seem to stop being an arsehole. Paul had to put away his guitar before actually punching his perfect face.

Paul watched as he staggered from his stance. “Could you stop being an arse-“

That was quite possibly the hardest punch Paul had ever experience. In fact, his head was already spinning. Before he touched the ground, he could heard shouts from the other bloke and John telling his friends to let him finish it. Though it didn’t quite work and his friends were trying to hold him back from punching Paul again.

“Shit, Paul, you alright?” Paul received the hand Ivan offered to help him stand back up. If he hadn’t been so focused on John’s face, he would’ve heard Ivan telling him to just go home and auditioned another day. But Paul knew that punch was just the start, John was holding back. So he told Ivan to tell them to let John go and let them have a proper fight outside.

So they did, resulting in Paul’s black eye and a lot of bruises. Not to mention his fucked-up knuckles. Paul had told John not to hold back and he didn’t regret it. Now he didn’t have to feel guilty for the same black eye or the bloody nose he had gave John.

They sat and leaned to the red brick wall for support, for neither of them couldn’t stand up anymore. “Why’d you fight me, shithead?” John asked, “I don’t know you well, but I could tell you’re one brave fucker.”

Paul chuckled softly at that. “You seemed like an arsehole. You deserve it.” He had to talk slowly to avoid cutting his lip even more.

“I get that a lot,” he said as he grinned stupidly at nothing in particular. John fished his pocket for a cigarrette. He offered one to Paul, who refused to take one since he didn’t smoke. But after a few more times of persuading, he agreed to try one. His first drag made him coughed up a lot. John laughed softly at him and his unsuccessful first try.

Suddenly, the bloke got up on his feet. Then he helped Paul to stand up. Knowing Paul was pretty fucked-up already, John put Paul’s arm around his neck to support him. “What are you doing?” Paul asked as he tried to follow John’s lead. John was too busy focusing on helping him walk to answer, but it didn’t stop Paul from asking. “What about the audition?”

“Band rehearsal starts on 12 every Saturday,” John finally answered, “and whenever I want to on the weekends.” At the last statement, Paul grinned and let himself laugh freely. He was still laughing when a question popped in his head. Then he went dead silent and stared at John. This made John uneasy as he knew Paul had something to say. “What is it?”

Paul grinned again. “Where are we going?”

“To fix you up.”

The boy only nodded and didn’t say anything until they reached the porch of a house, John’s house. He was too busy staring down at his feet when they arrived that he didn’t bother to look around. All he knew was he already sat down on a bed and John was beside him with a bottle and a piece of cloth in his hand.

John was surprisingly gentle and Paul oddly find it as a really sweet gesture. After he was done tending with the younger’s face, he tried to tend to his own face but failed as he keep missing the wounds. As if on cue, Paul stepped in and did it for him, he muttered a thank you after.

The sun was getting real low and Paul hadn’t made any sign of leaving. He and John had only been lying on the bed, both too tired to be doing anything else at that moment. He’s thought about leaving the house and going home so his dad wouldn’t make a fuss, but he hadn’t moved an inch. It was either he was too tired or that everything around him seemed homely anyway.

_From the first time he saw the ted, he had a feeling they were going to hate each other’s guts._ If it wasn’t for this moment, Paul would say the same. He’d just like to see which one of them would get sick of the other first. Though at this point he doubt he would ever get sick of the boy.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry if this sounded really rush and quick but i made this way back when i was in a writer’s block and i hadn’t had much time to write (+ i’m working on another bigger fanfic sooo) so this is what came out.


End file.
